


Sleepover

by atlas_of_galaxies



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:45:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9906044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlas_of_galaxies/pseuds/atlas_of_galaxies
Summary: After months of tormenting the other Barians, Vector has finally gotten kicked out of the house. But now he needs a place to sleep.Luckily, Yuma has a spare mattress in his attic...





	

_**"VECTOR!!!"** _

Nasch's furious yell echoes throughout the house, startling half the Barians in an assortment of ways. Mizael has just finished rubbing his head on the spot where his skull connected with the ceiling fan - of course he just _had_ to be changing Gilag's lightbulb for him when that scream from hell scared the living daylights out of him - when he notices Vector himself walking past him and into the kitchen.

The orange-haired teen grins and leans into the doorway, taking in the scene before him with total glee.

Nasch stands there, in the middle of the kitchen, absolutely livid. White puffs escape his clothes as he shakes with fury, sending up a thick fog of baking ingredients.

Nasch is, from head to his waist, completely and irreversibly covered in flour.

The shit-eating grin upon Vector's face makes the Barian king wish that Yuma hadn't resurrected the orange-haired menace with the Numeron Code.

"So, I see you and my little trap got acquainted," Vector observes, taking a few daring steps into the kitchen.

"Your _'little trap'_ ?" his victim responds, his voice utterly seething. "You fucking set a bag of flour on top of the cabinet, knowing full well it would fall onto whomever happened to open it. _That_ was your little trap?"

Vector shrugs as he steps to the side to avoid a cloud of flour gathered on the floor. "You got me."

Nasch glares daggers at him, but it doesn't work out too well, as he has to keep blinking to keep the flour out of his eyes. "I thought we were past this petty rivalry, Vector. We've played this little game for far too long."

"Ohohoh, cute. You thought this was just for you, your highness? Nah, you just happened to be the unlucky sucker who happened to open the wrong cabinet at the wrong time."

Nasch bristles at derisive nickname. He opens his mouth, ready to bicker some more with this carrot, when he realizes: he has the authority here.

The king suddenly points at the doorway Vector entered through, a thick cloud of flour swirling around Nasch like an ominous fog. "Out of this house, Vector," the former emperor snarls.

Said Barian blinks in surprise. He wasn't expecting this. Nasch had confined him to his room before, sure, but kicking him out of their own house? Isn't that a form of child abuse?

Vector is anything but a child, but still.

When the orange-haired teen doesn't make a move towards the door, Nasch gives him an intense glare. "Get out," he repeats.

Vector gets the message and uncertainly steps towards the entryway. "Merag will be pissed about this," he warns.

"I think Merag will understand," Nasch sneers as he runs a hand through his hair in an effort to shake the flour out of it. It doesn't really work.

"Alright, if you insist..." Vector drawls, very clearly stalling for time. "But, ah, if you're looking to get that stuff out of your ... everything, I wouldn't recommend water. When flour is combined with water, it has the tendency to thicken and harden--"

" _Get out, Vector."_

"Jeez, okay, fine. _Don't_ take my advice. Have fun becoming a walking paper maché project, then."

"A walking paper -- _what?_ "

But Vector has finally heeded his warning, and he's out the door before he can answer Nasch's probing question. Whatever, Durbe will probably explain what it is to him, being the know-it-all that he is.

Outside the Barian Mansion (named by Mizael) / Barian Clubhouse (named by Alit) / Barian Stronghold (named by Gilag) / Naschle's Castle (named by Merag) / Fuck You Merag (named by Nasch) / The Murder Dome (recommended by Vector, but unanimously rejected by everyone else), Vector sits on the porch, at a loss.

So he's actually been kicked out of their house. Guess he should have expected it to happen sooner or later.

But. Uh.

Where does he go now?

It's a Monday night at 6:38 p.m. and it's already pretty dark. There's also a bit of a chill; Vector shoves his hands into his jacket pockets as he gazes out onto the street. He tests out the air by letting out a harsh sigh, but it's not cold enough to see the cloud of his breath.

A little disappointed, he begins to weigh his options.

He could try for a motel, but the staff might be suspicious of a high-school-age teenager sleeping in a motel on a school night. Plus, he's - Vector checks his jean pockets - all out of cash.

There's also the option of convincing someone to let him stay at their house.

Er, who does he know who isn't a Barian and who he's on good terms with?

...

...Oh, duh. Yuma.

Vector highly doubts that Yuma will think any worse of him for getting kicked out of his own house - in fact, he might even think it's cool - so there's no question that Yuma will want him to stay over.

Gotta love that simple-minded soul.

A very wistful, un-Vector-like smile graces the Barian's face as he gets to his feet and heads off in the direction of the Tsukumo household.

\---

He can hear the resonance of the doorbell inside the house after he's rung it as he waits on Yuma Tsukumo's porch.

Vector hears Yuma's loud voice sound from within his house: "Coming!!" It's quickly followed by a set of pattering footsteps, swiftly getting louder.

The Barian brings a hand out of his pocket and rests it against his side, a sly grin crossing his face as he does. He's gotta look as disinterested as possible; that's the only way he can maintain any shred of his pride as he prepares to beg Yuma to let him stay over.

He's just finished steeling himself when the door opens and Yuma stands there, in the doorframe, backlit by the warm glow of his living room. Light floods the porch and nearly blinds Vector; he brings up a hand to block his eyes but stops it before it reaches his face. Instead, he waves.

"Yuma-kun!" he grins, his voice returning to Shingetsu levels of frequency. Not that he really intends for it to happen; it's just a force of habit.

"Vector?!" Yuma recognizes him, the surprise barely visible on his shadowed face. "How come you're here?"

Vector returns his hand to his pocket and gives him a small grin. There was nothing in Yuma's voice that suggested that he _didn't_ want to see him. It seems that he's in the clear.

"Eh, Nasch kicked me out of our house," he responds with a shrug, disinterest returning to his voice.

"What?! Shark did that? That's so unfair!"

Heh, you can always count on Yuma to overreact.

"So do you need a place to stay tonight, Vector?"

_Bingo._

The Barian allows a sheepish smile to creep across his face. "Yeah, I do." He scratches the back of his head in embarrassment. "If it's not too much trouble...?" Vector's purple eyes blink up at Yuma, feigning nervousness.

Even in the shadow of the night, Vector can see Yuma's grin bright as day. "Of course you can sleep over! And we're just starting dinner! Come on, you can have some!"

He steps aside to let Vector into his house. As the Barian passes through his doorway, he feels a pang of guilt - he's completely eased back into playing Yuma like a fiddle.

But hey, at least now it's not really for any bad intentions. He's not trying to kill Yuma and all his friends anymore, after all.

The inside of Yuma's home is even warmer and cozier than he remembers it being. The tv is on but muted; it gives the house a much homier feel than the large, empty expanse of Nasch's mansion that the Barians now call home.

The last time Vector felt this at home was ... two lifetimes ago.

Vector doesn't realize that he's frozen in the middle of Yuma's living room until he feels a hand close around his wrist. Taken aback from the sudden touch, he startles.

"Vector, come on, we're gonna miss dinner!" Yuma whines in his ear.

The Barian blinks for a moment, but he quickly nods and follows Yuma into his kitchen, his scrawny wrist still in the teen's grasp.

At the dinner table sits only two people: a tall woman with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail that Vector believes to be Yuma's sister, and an old lady that's approximately half Yuma's height. Presumably, that's his grandmother.

"Mm, who's this?" the old lady hums cheerfully, her eyes closed with contentment as she places a bowl of onigiri on the table, which Yuma casts a hungry look at.

His sister snaps him out of his hunger with a sharp rap on the wrist. "Oh, this is my friend, Vector!" Yuma forces the alien's hand up in a forced gesture of greeting, as if his family hadn't noticed the stranger in their house. "He needs a place to stay tonight, so can he sleep over?"

"Hmm." His sister casts the Barian a suspicious look. "Is this a dueling friend of yours?"

Yuma and Vector exchange a Look™. "Uh, yeah, you could say so," the dark-haired duelist uneasily responds. "But he doesn't have anywhere else to sleep, so..."

Not amused, Yuma's Nosy Sister - that's her name now - lets out a huff. "Fine, he can stay over, but no card games, mister. It's a school night."

"Thanks, sis!" her younger brother grins, apparently undeterred by the ban of his favorite activity. He gently tugs Vector to a seat at the dinner table.

The Barian has barely sat down by the time Yuma has half the onigiri on his plate. "Come now, Yuma, save some for your friend and Akari," his grandmother scolds gently, her smile still on her face. The quiet yet loving lecture is totally unfamiliar to Vector; an older family member, telling you to do something correctly in a calm and reassuring way?

Can that even happen?

Apparently it can, because, with a pout on his face, Yuma empties about 50% of his food onto Vector's plate and only, like, 10% onto Akari's. The Barian can't help but grin at the look of murder the older sibling gives the younger.

As the rest of the Tsukumo family digs into their dinner, Vector takes a tentative bite of the rice, and -- _great Don Thousand_ , has human food always tasted this good?

He must have gotten used to the shitty microwave meals (courtesy of Mizael) and endless nights with nothing but cup ramen for dinner (thanks, Durbe), because right now, this ball of rice that the Tsukumos apparently eat for dinner every night is literal _heaven_.

Vector finishes the rice ball in two bites and quickly consumes another one. Then another. And another. It doesn't take long for him to be completely full, but it was so good that he feels slightly bad for not having more.

"Good, huh?" Yuma grins at him through a mouthful of rice, accidentally shedding the grains all over his lap. Vector nods and looks away, pretending to be very interested in the toaster on the counter to his left.

He's grateful to Yuma and all, but. Yuma can be...

Very embarrassing.

\---

Vector finds he has to eat those words not much more than an hour later on the couch in Yuma's living room in front of his tv.

"This can't be happening," Vector whispers in a quiet horror as his fingers mash away at the controller, but to no avail; Yuma beats him for the 14th time in a row in Smash 4.

Yuma lets out his 14th victory cheer of the hour as a dejected Dark Pit applauds a Mario that matches his player in spirit. Vector takes a salty sip of his tea - he's the salty one, not the tea - and glares at his newly-proclaimed Smash rival over the rim of his cup.

"How are you even this good?" the Barian hisses, still hiding behind his steaming cup. He's mildly terrified of Yuma at the moment. Vector thought that _he_ was one of the best players around.

Of course, Barian World didn't exactly have Smash - or television, for that matter - but the amount of times he's slaughtered his fellow emperors on Nasch's Wii U - lovingly nicknamed the Nasch Smasher - since their revival made him confident that he was at least halfway decent.

But now he may need to reconsider his skill level.

Yuma takes a gulp from his cup and shivers from the heat. He shoots a grin at the Barian from across the couch. "I spent my whole childhood growing up playing against my sister," he explains, not even looking at the screen as he prepares another match. "I guess I got pretty good."

Vector grumbles something unintelligible - but likely very rude - and sets his cup down as he takes up his controller again, ready to lose a 15th time.

They take the stage on Yoshi's Island - childish, but fun - but it doesn't take long for Mario to smash Dark Pit through the blocks in the center of the stage, sending him to his doom.

Vector tries a more abstract approach as they fight. In real life, he sticks a leg across the couch and pokes Yuma in the side with his toe. The dark-haired teen lets out a small mutter of indignation, which the Barian takes as an invitation to continue pressing his foot into Yuma's ribcage. His other leg soon joins its brother.

Yuma is soon wedged between the arm of the couch and Vector's legs. Even though this is enough to make anyone lose their cool, the Barian _still_ loses.

After Mario is celebrated for the 15th time that night - seriously, all that praise is gonna go to his head eventually - Vector sets his controller down, plants his face into a pillow, and lets out an elongated groan.

Yuma respectfully allows him to finish his mourning before tapping him on the bottom of his foot that is so rudely pressed into his side. Immediately, the Barian jolts and swiftly retracts his legs. He bunches up and hugs his groan muffler to his chest, glaring at Yuma from the opposite side of the couch as he does. "That was low," he growls.

Yuma can only stare. "What was?" he asks innocently.

"Tickling me."

"I didn't --" A quiet look of surprise spreads itself across his face. "Wait, you're _ticklish?_ "

" _.....No._ "

The dark-haired teen blinks, unconvinced, but he lets it drop. It's at that moment that Vector realizes the t.v. is off and the controllers, thankfully, are put away.

At the Barian's look of confusion, Yuma informs him: "It's nearly 10, Vector. I have to get to bed."

He gets up and stretches, arching his back and letting out a soft sigh of contentment. "I have to take a quick shower before bedtime, though." He turns to Vector and extends a hand as an apology for accidentally tickling him earlier. "Do you want to get in, too?" he asks nonchalantly.

Vector just stares. Did he hear that right? He's so shaken up that he can't even muster the energy to meet Yuma's hand with his own. "What?"

"Do you want to get in the shower after me?"

 _Oh._ That makes ... a lot more sense.

Silently scolding himself, Vector finally takes up Yuma's offer and allows him to help him up. "Yeah, I probably should." His hand lingers in Yuma's grasp for a touch too long. The Barian casually pulls it away and links his hands behind his head. "So where should I sleep?" He casts a glance around the living room, ranking the sofas in order of back-breaking support to tolerable sleeping material.

"Oh, you can sleep in the attic with me, if you want. There's a mattress up there somewhere."

Vector admits to himself that he definitely prefers being with Yuma over being without, so he nods. "Sounds good to me."

"Sweet!"

The Barian slowly makes his way toward the stairs as Yuma finishes tidying up the living room. The dark-haired teen concludes by turning off the light switch; as soon as he does, he sprints to Vector's side by the staircase, as if running from the dark. Yuma's sheepish, embarrassed grin is bright enough to be seen through the darkness he's apparently afraid of.

It's kinda cute.

The two make their way up the stairs and into Yuma's bedroom. Vector is shown the way into the attic before Yuma departs to take a shower - alone.

Alone for the first time since he left his own house, Vector quietly sits in the crowded yet cozy attic. It doesn't feel like a typical attic; there are clear signs of a regular human presence, like the worn hammock and the notable absence of dust upon the artifacts.

The alien looks to his left and sees the nearly full moon hanging over the city; he climbs into Yuma's hammock for a better vantage point. It sways and buckles under Vector's weight as he struggles to settle into it. He has _no_ idea how Yuma finds this comfortable enough to sleep in.

He lets out a quiet sigh and settles for sitting. He gazes out over Heartland City and its lovely bustling and busy lights. It's bright, and yet it lulls him into a content drowsiness as he watches city lights blink in and out of existence. Maybe that's how Yuma sleeps here.

Vector glances to his right and notices a short, stubby barrel that serves as Yuma's makeshift nightstand. There's a few cards scattered across its surface, as well as Yuma's empty key necklace, but the most prominent member on the barrel has to be a small, framed photograph.

The Barian leans forward to pick it up, the hammock creaking softly as he does. He inspects it under the light of the moon and Heartland City. Two adults, a man and a woman, pose together, dressed in excavating gear in the picture. They start to look oddly familiar, when - Vector realizes that they're Yuma's parents.

He shakes his head in confusion; the Tsukumo parents had been nowhere to be seen the whole time Vector has been at their house. They're clearly not here, but he knows they have to be _somewhere_ on Earth, since Astral brought them back from his own world shortly after the Numeron Code had resurrected the Barians.

And yet, there's been no sign of Yuma's parents at their house.

Could it be that they never even came back to their house to see their family before setting off on another one of their adventures?

It's at that moment that Vector hears the unmistakeable sound of wet feet upon wood; Yuma's out of his shower and returning to the attic. The Barian hastily replaces the photograph at its original spot, and he scrambles off the swinging hammock - with difficulty - and returns to his seat upon the wooden floor right as Yuma pokes his head up over the entrance to the attic.

The teen wears a loose-fitting t-shirt and small nightshorts, and his pronged hair is wrapped in a towel, hiding what his gravity-defying hair truly looks like when it's wet. Yuma crawls onto the wooden floor to sit beside Vector, crossing his legs pretzal-style and grinning at him.

"Your turn!"

Vector, fully aware of how Yuma's bare knee is brushing his own, quickly obliges and gets up. "There're towels in the bathroom," his host informs him. "Oh, and the shower works kinda weird; you gotta twist one knob one way before you can actually turn on the hot water--" He makes a show of twisting imaginary knobs in midair, his towel slightly slipping off his head as he takes both hands off to demonstrate to Vector.

"Okay, that makes sense, I understand," says Vector, the teen who most definitely does not understand what Yuma just tried to communicate to him through arcane movements with his hands.

The Barian makes his way down Yuma's bizarre ladder and across his remarkably unused room. He leaves the vacant bedroom and enters the Tsukumos' dark hallway, illuminated only by the streetlamp outside the window and by the bathroom light at the end of the hall; Yuma must have left it on for him.

In the tidy little bathroom, Vector finds, as promised, a towel on the sink. As he closes the door and locks it behind him, he quickly finds how _humid_ the room is. He sticks out his tongue in silent disapproval as he turns on the ventilation fan, which fills the small room with a comforting hum.

Vector then wastes no time in peeling off all his stupid, hot, black leather clothes.

After a minute, the alien straightens up to look at himself in the mirror, which is still slightly cloudy from the steam produced by Yuma's earlier shower. Vector blinks, and his reflection blinks back.

He looks so small and insignificant like this - _this_ being his human form, of course. His scrawny chests rises and falls in deep breaths that force humid air through his lungs. Had he been in his Barian form, breathing some steamy shower air would have been a breeze. He had to deal with acidic oceans back on his planet, after all.

But now, he's so weak that he can hardly stand some water vapor.

He really misses his Barian powers.

Instead, he's stuck as a human, constantly reminded of what this form did to his fellow Barians, to his old schoolmates, to _Yuma_ \--

Vector fiddles with the shower knobs - turning one knob one way before turning on the hot water - and a fresh burst of steam quickly fills the bathroom.

Soon enough, he can't see his pathetic form in the foggy, opaque mirror.

Letting out a soft sigh of relief, Vector steps into the shower without even testing the water first. He stands there, not bothering to close the shower curtain, letting the steaming hot water pound his body. It hurts, but at least it distracts him from thinking too much.

He quietly watches the water stream down his body, following his curves and tracing paths down his skin. He runs a hand through his hair and lets his head be blasted by the shower faucet. His eyes screw tightly shut as his hair gets weighed down by the water and begins to droop into his face.

Finally, after getting completely soaked, Vector starts to actually do what he came here to do: clean himself. He closes the shower curtain, trying to ignore the shallow pool of water gathered upon the tile floor that must have been his doing. He then turns to the shelf in the shower, letting his side get battered by the stream of water. He grabs what is assumedly Yuma's shampoo and sets to work on massaging the soap into his normally orange hair, now turned practically brunet from the weight of the water.

There's something oddly curious about using someone else's shower. It's not like Vector isn't used to it, as he has to use the shower attached to his room in Nasch's house all the time. But despite that, this still strikes him as weird.

In Nasch's house, he didn't really notice it, probably because the mansion is so massive that Nasch probably never even saw the shower that Vector regularly uses. But here, in the Tsukumo household? Using Yuma's shower, which he _knows_ Yuma uses, feels weirdly ... intimate.

He pauses for a moment to let the water wash out the soap bubbles from his hair. This doesn't mean anything, right? Anyone would let their friend take a shower at their place. That's just what being a friend means, and Yuma is, if he's anything, a friend.

Eh, he's overthinking this.

He borrows Yuma's soap for his skin and quickly rinses, savoring the last few moments of searing water blasting his scrawny body before he turns off the faucet.

Vector pulls open the curtain again, releasing the steam built up in the shower into the tiny bathroom. The heat is suffocating as a result; he only takes the time to briefly dry himself off and wrap a towel around his waist before he's opening the door to let in some air that isn't 100 degrees F.

However, as Vector stands there in the doorway, basking in the cool air that so graciously floods the humid bathroom, he realizes something very important. He has to stare at his dark leather clothes that are crumpled upon the ground for a solid 5 seconds before he figures out that he didn't bring any nightclothes.

He's gonna have to borrow some from Yuma.

But before he can even do that, he has to make his way back up to the attic in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

...Don Thousand, please let the rest of the Tsukumo household be in their beds.

Vector pauses for a brief moment to sheepishly wipe up the small water puddle beside the shower, leaving the soaking towel he used hanging on the shower curtain rod to drip dry. He grabs his discarded clothes and uses them to cover his gaunt chest as he leaves the bathroom to go off to find Yuma and - hopefully - some clothes.

Vector returns to the attic to find Yuma sprawled out on his hammock, his phone illuminating his face and reflecting in his red eyes as he scrolls through his feed. The Barian crawls out of the entrance to the attic with some difficulty - he makes sure to very firmly keep his towel in place - and grins. So much for Yuma "needing to go to bed soon".

Said teen quickly notices the almost-naked alien in his room - not that he isn't used to it, with Astral and all - and sits up in his hammock, putting his phone down out of courtesy. "Hey, Vector," Yuma greets. An eyebrow quirks as he takes in the alien's appearance. His eyes burn into the Barian's bare chest. "Uh, are you gonna wear a shirt?" he questions.

"Nah, I was thinking I would just sleep like this." Vector can't resist the urge to make a sarcastic snapback - very bad timing, Vec - and is rewarded - or punished - with a mildly horrified look on Yuma's face.

"I, uh, didn't bring any nightclothes," the Barian sheepishly admits after Yuma doesn't move for several uncomfortable seconds.

"...Oh. Why didn't you say so?" Yuma slips out of his hammock and passes by Vector to take the ladder down to his actual room. Vector takes a brief moment to make sure that Yuma isn't directly below him before following him down.

When he safely lands on the floor, still clutching his towel tightly, Yuma is already at his dresser, digging around for something. He quickly finds what he's looking for, and he pulls out a shirt with the logo for Heartland Academy on it and some black-and-orange tiger-striped shorts.

Vector hardly has the time to acknowledge the irony of the shirt before Yuma is presenting him with both articles of clothing. After a beat, the Barian receives them with a bemused expression on his face.

"I-I'll let you change," Yuma hums, suddenly avoiding meeting his guest's eyes. He darts past Vector and scrambles up the ladder like some sort of bizarre spider monkey.

Vector waits several seconds after Yuma's foot has disappeared into the attic before dropping his towel to the floor. He gratefully pulls on the shorts and stretches the t-shirt over his head. It seems small, but it fits well over his lanky form.

He hangs up his towel on a rung of the ladder - that's an acceptable place to dry a towel, right? - and follows Yuma back into the attic. In the cozy little room, Vector finds that Yuma is sitting about as far away from the entrance as he can get, his back turned. Was he embarrassed by Vector changing when he was right upstairs?

Judging by the pink cheeks that Yuma possesses when he turns to greet the Barian, yes, Yuma was most definitely embarrassed.

"Thanks," Vector says to fill the slightly awkward silence, a hand tugging at the loose t-shirt. "This brings back memories, huh?" he comments, gazing down at the logo for the school he briefly attended with Yuma and company.

"Yeah, it does," the dark-haired teen sighs wistfully, eyeing the shirt. "Do you think you'll ever come back?"

The sudden and revealing question catches him off guard.

"I..." Vector can't bring himself to look up at Yuma, so he just keeps staring at his chest. The shirt wrinkles as his fist crumples it in distress. "I ... I can't, Yuma."

"Why not?"

He still can't look at him. "I just ... don't think I would be welcome there. After what I did and everything."

Yuma's soft gasp paints the picture of his hurt face for him. "Of course you're still welcome! Shark and Alit and everyone else came back, so you can come back, too--"

"It's not the same, Yuma."

"How is it not the same?"

Vector is becoming increasingly distressed. He's starting to wonder if this frail body is strong enough to rip fabric, because he's clutching at his t-shirt _really_ fucking hard.

He's not sure how much more of this self-guilt trip he can take.

"...Can we drop this?"

Yuma must hear something in the Barian's quiet yet desperate voice, as he complies and drops it immediately. In the corner of his eye, he sees the teen visibly relax and lean back, any aggressive stance he must have taken without Vector noticing now gone.

"Here, I'll help you set up for the night," Yuma offers, getting to his bare feet. At his complete change of voice, Vector slowly unfurls his fist and looks up to meet his host's gaze. Yuma's red eyes are soft, understanding. The Barian quietly realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like Yuma, and just how little he deserves this same someone.

The dark-haired teen passes by him, giving his hand a quick squeeze as he does. "We keep our spare mattress up here," he continues in that same gentle tone of voice. "Don't ask how we got it up the ladder; none of us really know."

With that, Yuma tugs a single-person mattress out from behind a bookshelf cluttered with some of the Tsukumos' smaller and more petite discoveries.

He drags it to the small patch of bare floor next to his hammock and sets it down. It fits snugly in the cramped floor space. Vector settles down onto the mattress - he's kinda forced to, as there's no room left to stand - and sits cross-legged, gazing up at Yuma with a slight grimace of pain.

The Barian's skinny legs jut out at painful angles. Sitting cross-legged hurts like hell, how does Yuma manage it?

"I'll grab some blankets, too," Yuma offers, already disappearing down the ladder, presumably to retrieve the sheets. Vector takes the time to shift into a slightly more comfortable position before a patterned plaid blanket flies up through the attic entrance and onto Vector's head.

Snorting, he swiftly pulls the blanket off and glares as Yuma ascends the ladder, two more blankets swung over his shoulders. He tosses them onto the mattress to join their fallen brother and scrambles after them.

Yuma grins as he bunches up a soft pink cotton and wraps it around himself, making him into a human burrito. "So!" he begins, his voice partially muffled by his cocoon. "Now that this is actually starting to feel like a sleepover, what kind of sleepover things should we do?"

Vector raises an eyebrow as he tugs the plaid blanket back towards him and settles it around himself. "Shouldn't you be going to bed?" he points out.

An aloof hand frees itself from the Yumarrito and waves away Vector's point in a dismissive manner. "It's a sleepover, I'm allowed to stay up late," his host retorts.

"Even on a school night?"

" _Especially_ on a school night! Come on, Vector! What's a typical sleepover thing to do?"

His guest pauses for a moment, and then shrugs. Oh well. If Yuma wants to wake up tomorrow morning, sleep-deprived, it's not his problem.

Then, a thought crosses the Barian's mind. Maybe he could have a little fun with this.

"Well, a sleepover tradition has always been confessing your crushes," Vector off-handedly advises, casting a sly glance at Yuma. "Do you have a crush on anyone?" He feels like a 6th grade girl.

To his satisfaction - and slight fear - Yuma goes red as a beet. "Wh-why would you think that?" he splutters, partially retreating into his cocoon.

"Well, everyone has a crush on someone, don't they?" Vector points out, training his guarded eyes on Yuma's wide ones. "In fact, I know someone who has a crush on you, Yuma."

"Huh?" Yuma's squeak that emanates from the blanket burrito nearly hurts Vector's ears. "Someone likes me? Who?"

The Barian leans back and gives him a shrug. "Well, I don't think it'd be fair to tell you and not for you to tell me who you like, so..."

" _No._ " Yuma's answer comes back a little faster and harsher than Vector would have liked. However, there's still a quiet, pleading look in his red eyes. "Can't you just give me a hint? Can you tell me the first letter of their name or something?"

Vector shakes his head, drawing a whining moan from Yuma's mouth. "Nah, that'd be too easy. But what I will tell you is that..." Yuma immediately shuts up and leans forward, eyes wide and sparkling, his lips slightly pursed in curiosity. "...They think you're cute."

Wait uh what? That wasn't what Vector was planning to say--

Too late, the damage is done, and Yuma's face-down on the mattress, retreating further into the cotton sheets than Vector thought was possible.

After Yuma hasn't come back up for air for a solid minute now, Vector starts to grow worried. He gently nudges what he believes to be Yuma's head under the blanket with his big toe. "Hey, Yuma, we should probably get to bed," the Barian advises, nudging him a little harder when Yuma doesn't stir.

"Not yet." The faint mumble is the only sign that Yuma is still alive. He lifts his head and sets his chin on Vector's bare knee. Their eyes meet, and Vector feels a weird shock. "You still have to tell me who you like, Vec."

"Who said I liked anyone?" the Barian exclaims, outraged. However, a warmth on his face threatens otherwise.

"Yeah, that isn't really helping your case here," Yuma notes, extracting a hand from his blanket and gently poking Vector's red face, which is, presumably, _'that'_.

Vector grips Yuma's wrist and immediately pulls it away from his face, unable to take all the contact.

Yuma quietly meets his gaze, not removing his wrist from Vector's grasp. It almost feels as if he's testing the Barian, waiting for him to make a move--

"I think we should get to bed, Yuma."

Vector wonders if he imagines the brief look of disappointment on Yuma's face before his host grins at him. "Yeah, you're probably right." He crawls out of Vector's reach as he pulls himself onto his hammock. The spot where Yuma's chin rested on his knee feels cold.

Yuma waits for his guest to situate himself with the three heavy blankets lent to him. After Vector has managed to find an arrangement where all three blankets won't crush him at once, Yuma stretches up to hit the light switch.

"Goodnight, Vector."

"Night."

The room goes black for a brief moment. But Vector's purple eyes quickly adjust to the contrast in light. The moon helps to light up the room, and when he looks to his right, he can see Yuma, outlined in silver, curled up on his hammock. It takes him a moment to see in the dark that Yuma's eyes are still open.

Vector dismisses it, turning his gaze to the low ceiling above him. The rafters are decorated with small artifacts attached to string, hanging from the ceiling like mismatched mobiles. They cast soft shadows against the floor, dappling his blanket-covered body with dark shapes.

He slowly takes a hand out from under the covers and lifts it into the air, rotating it and watching how the shadows fall upon it. A silent glance to his side tells him that Yuma is watching him.

He hears the teen shift, and the hammock softly creaks. Yuma quietly gazes down at him, his thumb on his lip, as if he's thinking hard.

Suddenly, Yuma breaks the silence.

"Vector, can I ask you something?"

The Barian lets his hand fall with a quiet thwump on the sheets. "Weren't we supposed to be sleeping?"

"I can't sleep."

"Figures." Vector turns his body towards Yuma's, propping himself up on his elbow. "What do you want?"

"Do you remember your past life?"

Vector nearly falls off his elbow. "My ... past life?"

Yuma blinks at him, uncertain. "Yeah. Do you remember being a human?"

The Barian isn't really sure how to respond. "I ... guess I do. But whenever I try to think back about it, it's really muddled. The only thing I can remember clearly is my dad." Vector returns to laying on his back, not entirely sure he wants Yuma seeing him face-to-face.

"And they're not very good memories, so I try not to dwell on them for long," Vector finishes with a sigh. A thought suddenly invades his head, and he can't get it out no matter how hard he tries.

"Yuma, what about _your_ dad? Where is he?"

He immediately hears the teen's breath hitch. A quiet sense of regret floods him, scolding himself for asking such a question of Yuma, when--

"He's out."

Yuma's answer isn't very clear. "... Out? Out where?"

"Out there, travelling the world, somewhere. I'm not really sure where."

"He didn't even tell you where he was going?" Vector hates how raspy his voice sounds, but what he hates even more is the quiet, remorseful sigh that comes from his right.

"I mean, even though my dad is back from Astral World, I still barely see him. As soon as he got back, he went off with my mom on some adventure in the world that needed exploring. They didn't even tell me where they were going." Yuma's voice quietly fills the room, calling out to the artifacts that his parents retrieved on their travels, the only hint of their existence. The artifacts do not respond.

Vector trains his purple eyes on the ceiling. He's too afraid to look over at Yuma and see whatever expression he has on his face, so he doesn't. "Yeah, I can relate to that, Yuma." He hears the hammock shift a bit; Yuma is assumedly looking down at him. "My dad was a douche, as well."

"Hey, you shouldn't call your father that." He doesn't deny the comment about his own father, though.

Vector grimaces and turns on his side, his back to Yuma. "Trust me, if you knew him, you'd say the same thing."

There's a quiet from Yuma's side of the room. Then: "What about your mother?"

The orange-haired teen freezes up, and his blood runs cold, despite the fact that he has enough blankets on him to last a lifetime. "She was..." he begins softly, hating how weak his voice sounds. "She was the only person to ever care about me."

Another silence. "That's not true, Vector." Yuma's voice is encouraging, soft. It's not enough.

"Is it?" the Barian asks bitterly, his fingers digging into the covers beneath him. "My dad hated me and tried to kill me, I slaughtered my entire country, I even killed most of the Barians! You think that any single one of those people cared for me?"

Yuma doesn't respond. _He knows I'm right,_ Vector thinks with a sour smile. "The only one who loved me was my mom. But she's dead. Because of me." His hands slowly release the covers. "Now I'm all alone."

He drifts into his thoughts of self-loathing, so he doesn't notice the quiet creak of the hammock, the footsteps across the hardwood floor, or the sudden weight on the mattress until he feels arms hug him from behind.

Vector goes shock-still, not daring to move, as if Yuma is a wild animal that he's struggling not to spook.

"You're not alone, Vector," Yuma murmurs. His breath stirs the hairs on the back of the Barian's neck. "You have us."

Vector shakes; half from grief, half from rage. He hates the combination. "But I've hurt so many people," he croaks, his voice hoarse. "The others don't deserve to keep me around."

"Don't say that." Arms squeeze around Vector, hugging his back tightly and pulling him into Yuma's tiny chest. "You were hurt and betrayed by Don Thousand, just like the others. They understand what you've gone through."

Vector is quiet for a long time. When he finally speaks, he's hesitant. "Do you really think that?" Yuma hears a scared, quiet voice ask.

"Of course I do, Vector." Another gentle squeeze. "You deserve to be loved. And they do love you. And I love you, too."

Vector is eerily still. Yuma doesn't even feel him breathing. He's starting to think that the Barian is straight-up dead when: "What did you just say, Yuma?" His voice isn't accusatory. Instead, it's afraid, as if he heard something he couldn't believe was true.

"I said that I love you, Vector."

Yuma feels said teen shift in his arms. He turns so that his face is directly in Yuma's. Their noses are mere centimeters apart, they can feel their quiet breath on each other's face.

Purple eyes meet red, quietly examining one another across a span of inches. They test each other, daring each other to make the first move.

Vector's lips move first.

"Yuma, you know how I said I knew someone who had a crush on you?"

Red eyes blink softly at him. Yuma's eyelashes are dipped in moonlight, softly fluttering as he closes his eyes briefly. "Yeah?" he breathes.

"That someone was me."

Closing his eyes, Vector inches forward and closes the gap between them. His lips silently connect with Yuma's.

It's a brief moment. But in that moment, with the rush of his beating heart, the taste of Yuma's soft lips on his, the way he feels his crush's eyes flutter shut against his skin because they're so close; in that moment, everything feels perfect.

The one to initiate the kiss is the same one to end it. Vector pulls away, his lips tingling from the kiss. His eyes are screwed shut, and he slowly opens them, afraid of what he'll find.

He sees Yuma's bright red eyes sparkling like moonlight, his mouth agape. It doesn't seem to be a reaction of disgust, if anything.

"Wow," Yuma finally sighs, his exhale of breath stirring Vector's bangs. He suddenly seems to realize that he's in a daze, and he snaps out of it. "Uh, by the way, the person I said I had a crush on, that was, um--" Even under the darkness of the shadows of the artifact mobiles, Vector can see his blush remarkably clearly. "That was you."

The Barian lets out a soft snort, his lips spreading into a smile. "Yeah, I kinda guessed that, from the love confession earlier and all." He scoots forward and wraps an arm around Yuma.

Yuma goes quiet for several minutes. Vector doesn't mind; the warmth of the teen is enough to keep him company. He's about to close his eyes when the duelist in his arms speaks up.

"Wait, so, Vector, are we a -- a thing?" His question is tinged with a surprising emotion: apprehension.

Vector has to take a moment to realize that he isn't imagining this right now. "Are you asking if we're dating now?"

"Uh, yes...?"

Vector quietly watches him. He feels Yuma's body tense up against his own in anxiety. "...I don't think you should have to go through with this," the alien admits, his voice taking on a sincerity so raw that it almost scares him. "I've done so much to hurt you, Yuma. How do you know this isn't just another one of my tricks?"

The tension in Yuma's body slowly eases, and he melts into Vector's embrace. "Even if this is a trick," Yuma mumbles, his voice slightly muffled by one of the three blankets on top of the both of them. "I don't care. I know you're good inside."

Yuma closes his eyes and buries his face in the Barian's neck. Vector softly smiles down at the teen, resting his chin on top of his head.

"I love you, Yuma," he murmurs, planting a kiss on top of his head.

He can feel the teen's smile against his skin - it tickles - and he knows Yuma feels the same way.

This whole thing feels unreal; there's no way that Vector is in Yuma's attic, sharing the same bed, hugging him to his chest like a lover, confessing their love to each other.

And yet, here they are.

"...Yuma, can I tell you something?" Vector's voice is soft. He barely hears it himself; he's practically falling asleep.

"Mm-hm?" Yuma's dreamy murmur makes the Barian wonder if he's actually awake. But Vector goes on with it, anyway.

"This isn't a trick."

Yuma snuggles into Vector's chest, his arms gently hugging his sides. He lets out a quiet, contented sigh into the Barian's neck:

"I know."

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah, in case you couldn't tell, I'm trash for yumavec lol  
> I'm trash for a lot of yuma ships tho, vector you ain't special


End file.
